He'll die in my arms, my dick planted in his ass
1. I'm not into necrophilia.
2. No one else should be, either.
3. Who is this Johnny
"Drink this Giles and believe me"
But... I want to drink that Giles. He looks tastier.
I like it when people misspell words and give the sentence a completely new meaning. Here's a story header that pleases me:
Warnings- Yaoi, yaoi, and more yaoi! Warningwarningwarning! There will be men having sex in this story. If you don’t like this, why the hell did you open this story? I put in the summery lemon.
My question: where did they put the fall blueberry? Er...maybe I don't want to know.
Remember in grade school how fun it was to have a map legend/key assignment? I liked it when I was 8. Not so much with stories I read.
Mindless Dribble- Shmoo.
(-)(-)(-) -scene change
What is SHMOO? Is that bowling pin cartoon character in this story? Because that is wrong in a yaoi fic.
- He hunted through his bag and produced a small tube, barely used. "And now, the sex!" I'm not the only one picturing John Cleese sitting at a desk near the ocean, am I?
- He circled the tip several times before plunging the finger into the penis. AY YI YI! Cut that out RIGHT NOW. I don't even have a penis, and I'm clenching.
A note from the author is helpfully put right into the fic after (-)(-)(-), which, after consulting my key, means a scene change.
Okay, I removed this from FanFiction.Net because I was terribly insulted and even told to stop writing. If that happens here, I will remove it. Yes, I know the sex is damn near impossible. Don't comment.Ever.
*salutes* No problemo.
Let's talk about "a white boy's love for an Indian Brave," where the author states that he imagined himself to be the protagonist. At least this one's admitting Peter Stu-ism. The title of this tender romance: "Brave Butt Boy." I think, now, I'm not certain, but I think it's a double entendre.
Sweat runs down my back and under my pants causing an itch on butt.
Please note this is the "white boy" speaking. Let's go ahead and get a betting pool started on the chance that "wampum" and "me thinkum" will appear in this story. Without irony. I've got five on them both. The author goes on for (literally) 22 paragraphs about chopping wood (causing an itch on butt) then starts humping his axe blade. Let's hope it's the flat side - this is the one important detail that's been left out.)
My dick presses wonderfully against his butt. I reach around his slim waist and hold him tightly to me. My thrusts feel good. I grasp his thickly skinned erection. Thickly skinned erection. Buffalo hide? Deer skin? No, beaver! Wait, this is a slash fic, so they wouldn't use that.... [insert Moose joke]
In the "I Truly Question What Happened In The Author's Past" Category:
The long wooden handle [of the ax] reminds me of a horse's cock. What would it be like to embrace an excited stallion laying on its side? I'm curious about the feel of their long dong. I've belly rubbed with a man before. (Dong. He used DONG. I'm actually sad he didn't call it a ding-dong. Also: Equus was not a sex guide manual, boys!!)
Here's the kind of sense that makes none, part a million
"I suppose that even in this heat Indians can't go about fully naked."
In the "You Must Be The Stupidiest Gay Man Ever" Category:
"Strange sensations fill me from his fingering in my ass. I don't understand his interest there." (Really, it makes its own joke.)
- "I'd been shown a man's act of sperming by a fur trader" (I really feel there's a Moby Dick/Nathaniel Philbrick joke to be made, somehow. Like, did the kindly pedophile fur trader [the protagonist is a young man]) teach him to shout, "Thar he blows!" when he squirts? <-- the preferred term in this fic for climaxing.)
- "[The fur trader] rubbed his butt up against mine while making strange noises." (You're doing it wrong. Also, I would have been happy to learn that the strange noises were those of an angry wildcatter: "Carnfounded, rassle frassle, hornswoggler!")
- "Our butts pressed firmly together while his humped against mine." (now I'm thinking of Mrs. Garrison crying out, "Oh, yeah, scissor me!"
- "This Indian brave also wants to release my dick." (Fly away, be freeeeee! *flings it into the sky, like a captured dove*)
- "My dick explodes at that moment!" (Little known fact: dicks are a lot like land mines, YET MORE DANGEROUS.
- "I'm embarrassed that he took my sperm out in the open" (I don't even understand, y'all. And now I'm imaging some albino cave creature, mewling in pain at the sight of the sun. It buuuurns! It buuuurns!)
- "I watch his puckered hole wink in and out" (it isn't an eye. IT ISN'T AN EYE! Also, in and OUT? It's like a pulsing hemorrhoid, and that is NOT conducive to sex. I just made a Chewbacca-esque noise of derision, for those interested)
But Stoney, you might be saying, brave butt boys is one thing, but where are the fics about unattractive rock-n-roll stars that Corey Feldman once emulated in the late 80s, and perhaps, that unattractive rock-n-roller is wrapped in plastic wrap? And I would reply, with a gentle and knowing smile, they are here! An entire website dedicated to Roy Orbison bound in see-through plastic wrap! Truly, the earth had a need for this. We know this because the author has PUBLISHED BOOKS. *cries*
Let's look more closely at the ROY ORBISON IN SPACE, ALSO WRAPPED IN PLASTIC WRAP fic. Because surely a Pulitzer is due. So, they're in space, in a modified Jetta (I'm not making this up) and captained by: "Captain Roy Orbison of the Space Pioneers." As if it could have been captained by any other! The author soothes us with this important note:
Hitherto I have kept my tales of Roy in clingfilm strictly within the realms of plausibility
Yes, this is plausible. *steeples fingers under chin* Continue.
So the Jetta (with modified BMW enginges - German fetish? YES.) is hit by asteroids and GASP! They've forgotten to bring space suits! (I'm thinking shitty captain without foresight, but hey. What do I know about space travel?) Fortunately, there is CLING WRAP.
Cap'n Orbison: You will wrap me in cling-film at once. (*snaps to attention!* Yes Suh!")
In the "There Are So Many More Deutsch References, They Deserve Their Own Category" Category
- I seem to hear the strains of Strauss's Blue Danube Waltz in my head
- 'Dusseldorf, we have a problem,' he says
- 'Adjust thrusters, Mr. Haarbürste,'
- 'At once, mein Kapitan!'
- enjoy a warming glass of Glühwein
- 'You have been good this year,' he continues. 'You have been orderly and polite and have kept your shoes neatly arranged.' (Today you will not be shot. And now is the time on Shprockets ven ve dance!
Oh, hey. There's also a Roy Wrapped At Christmas, where Santa appears. And gives the protagonist plastic wrap for Christmas. And watches him wrap up Roy Orbison. (Why the fuck is it Roy Orbison? I mean, why not Simon LeBon or John Lennon or freakin' ELVIS? Jesus.)
'He is completely wrapped in Clingfilm,' I say to Santa.
'Ho,' says Santa, stroking his trademark white beard. 'So this is how it is. Is it that you like to wrap him as a present to the world?'
'Who can plumb the mysteries of the human heart?'
Who indeed, fair author. Who indeed. Also, I didn't realize Santa had a trademark. I wonder what his residuals are? The story ends with Santa asking to be wrapped, and the protagonist wraps him and stands him next to Roy Orbison.
'Both Father Christmas and Roy Orbison are completely wrapped in clingfilm,' I say.
I place Santa next to Roy and stand in between them. With some difficulty I wrap all three of us up together as best I can. We enjoy a quiet but satisfying yuletide until people from the social services come to release us.
God Bless us one and all.
Speechless. Wait, no I'm not. AHAHAHAHA. At least some social workers showed up! God HELP us, one and all.
Have a terrific weekend. Avoid plastic wrap and dead rock stars, if at all possible.